Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
ROSALIA
I wake up trapped in the suffocating warmth of Dominic’s arms.
For a second, I just stare at the ceiling, the full weight of last night crashing over me.
I can’t believe I actually slept with him.
I mean, I know I’m attracted to Dominic—at this point, pretending otherwise is a lost cause, and staying away from him feels almost impossible—but damn, that quickly?
I let my guard down the second he pushed, and now I'm left dealing with the aftermath.
Carefully, sliding out from under his grip so I don't disturb him, I slip out of bed.
My body aches in places that remind me far too vividly of every single thing we did.
I head straight into the bathroom, turn the shower on high, and let the hot water wash over me, trying to scrub away the lingering sensation of his hands on my skin.
When I step back out into the bedroom, drying off, Dominic is still fast asleep, completely sprawling across the mattress.
My eyes drop to the rug beside the bed. Yapper is curled up right there, fast asleep, tail occasionally stirring against the carpet.
Poor thing slept on the floor all night because I crashed hard right after sex with Dominic and completely forgot to take him back downstairs to the little corner Helena set up for him.
I pull on a simple dress, quiet as a mouse, and scoop Yapper up into my arms. We slip out of the room, leaving Dominic to his rest.
When I make it down to the kitchen, the house is quiet, and the only person there is Helena.
The moment she hears my footsteps, Helena turns around, her face lighting up with a wide smile. I don't return it. Instead, I fix her with a sharp glare.
Her smile falters instantly, a little taken aback by the ice in my eyes. "If this is about what Dominic did," she says quickly, putting her hands up defensively, "I swear I had no idea."
It’s hard to completely believe her, especially with how things operate around here.
But damn, I really want a friend. I need someone in my corner, and holding a grudge against Helena isn't going to help.
So, pushing the doubt aside, I force my expression to soften and let a faint smile touch my lips.
“I’m happy to hear that. I’d have been so disappointed. I like you, Helena.”
Helena relaxes slightly, letting out a soft sigh. "For what it’s worth... Dominic really cares about you."
I keep my mouth shut, not wanting to dive into the messy reality of whatever Dominic and I are doing right now.
Noticing my silence, Helena steps forward with a gentle look and gently scoops Yapper out of my arms. "I'll feed him and take him for a quick walk so he can relieve himself in the backyard."
I nod, grateful for the distraction, and watch quietly as the two of them head outside.
A few minutes later, I decide to take a walk myself.
Staying in the kitchen feels like a ticking clock—at any moment, Dominic could wander downstairs, and I am determined to avoid him today.
I’m not trying to be difficult, but I just can’t face him right now.
I really can’t. If I look at him, if I let him look at me with those intense eyes, I’ll fall all over again.
And I meant what I said yesterday. I can’t just forgive him that easily, no matter how much my body betrays me when he’s near.
I wander out into the quiet air of the garden and sit down on one of the wooden benches, wrapping my arms around myself against the morning chill.
Sitting here in the silence, my mind spirals back through everything.
Every lie, every secret, every moment where I thought we were building something real, only to find out there were missing pieces he kept hidden from me.
And then there's last night. The heat of it, the desperation.
The way he held me afterward like I was the only thing keeping him grounded.
It terrifies me how easily he slips past my defenses. One look, one touch, and the anger I'm supposed to hold onto melts into pure need. But physical surrender isn't trust, and a passionate night doesn't erase the hurt.
If I give in completely now, if I just sweep his actions under the rug because he apologized and kissed my forehead, I lose myself. I can't afford to do that. I need space to breathe, space to figure out where the line between my heart and my head actually lies.
But despite the fortress I'm trying so hard to build around my heart, a stubborn, persistent voice in the back of my head whispers the truth.
Dominic does care.
As much as I want to lump him in with the monsters from my past, he isn't Luciano.
He isn't my father. He didn't hide behind excuses, and when I confronted him, he didn't twist the narrative or try to intimidate me.
He offered me the weapon to destroy him, handed me his own execution order, and begged for my forgiveness on his knees.
That has to mean something. Maybe... maybe I should cut him a little slack.
My phone vibrates in my hand with a sharp beep, breaking my spiral.
I tap the screen. It's an email notification from Dante’s legal firm.
Opening the document, my eyes widen slightly.
It’s the formal breakdown of everything Judge Sterling ordered Dante to surrender—the property deeds, the asset transfers, and the full restoration of Luciano's business documents under my name.
A small, victorious smile touches my lips. We won. It's over.
Yet a strange, uneasy knot tightens in my stomach. It feels... too easy. Dante isn't the kind of man to hand over an empire without a fight.
My first instinct is to find Dominic, to show him the email and ask what he thinks. But I instantly squash the urge. No. I'm not running to him every time I need reassurance. I’m supposed to be keeping my distance today.
Before I can dwell on it further, a new text message pops up on my screen.
Eleonora: "We’re on our way. Dominic invited us over yesterday. Be there in five."
My heart instantly leaps into my throat, a surge of pure, uncontrollable joy soaring through my chest.
Dominic did what?
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to force back the sudden, betraying smile threatening to break across my face. He knew I was hurting. He knew how much I needed my sisters right now, so he arranged this for me.
No. Stay strong, Rosalia. Don't let a sweet gesture erase everything. But God, my sisters mean the absolute world to me. No matter how many times I see them, I will never, ever get tired of having them near.
About ten minutes later, the back terrace doors swing open.
Helena steps out into the morning sunlight, ushering Eleonora, Sienna, Daniela, and Camilla into the garden.
Behind them, two members of the estate staff carry a large woven picnic blanket and a basket of freshly prepared breakfast spreads, heading toward the shaded grass near my bench to lay everything out.
The moment my sisters spot me sitting by the hedges, their faces light up.
"Rosalia!" Camilla cries out first, breaking into a run across the manicured grass.
Within seconds, I am completely engulfed in a tangle of arms, warm hugs, and the comforting, familiar scents of my sisters. The heavy dark cloud that has been hanging over my chest since yesterday morning finally begins to dissipate.
The staff finishes spreading out the oversized knit blanket near the shade of an old oak tree, arranging silver trays of fresh pastries, cut fruit, hot coffee, and mimosa flutes.
We sink onto the blanket together, Yapper immediately bounding over to inspect the perimeter, happily accepting every tiny piece of bacon my sisters secretly drop for him.
For the next hour, the garden is filled with genuine, effortless laughter.
We talk about everything and nothing—Daniela complaining about her recent disagreements with Dad, Sienna detailing a funny story with her designer, and Eleonora keeping everyone in check.
For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel light.
Once the plates are cleared and we are all lounging back on the soft cushions, Sienna turns to me, her sharp eyes narrowing with sudden, unbridled curiosity.
She nudges my shoulder with her knee. "So... how did you and the big bad mobster handle your fight last night?"
I freeze mid-sip of my coffee, the cup lingering near my lips. I try to keep my face completely blank, but a heat flares up my neck, betraying me instantly.
Eleonora’s eyes widen. "Rosalia..."
"No way," Daniela gasps, sitting up straight.
"Did you...?" Camilla trails off, hands flying to her mouth.
"We had sex," I blurt out, unable to hold the secret under the weight of four intense sisterly stares.
The garden erupts.
Sienna throws her head back and hollers, clapping her hands together wildly, while Daniella lets out a loud, dramatic gasp. Even Eleonora shakes her head, a breathless, incredulous laugh escaping her lips as Camilla giggles into her hands.
"I knew it!" Sienna laughs, pointing a finger at me. "I knew the moment you saw him, you were going to cave!"
"I didn't cave!" I protest defensively, though my face is burning. "It just... happened. It was intense."
"Clearly," Daniella smirks.
Once the initial wave of teasing dies down, I look down at my lap, tracing the rim of my porcelain mug. The playful mood softens into something deeper.
"I care about him," I admit softly, the truth hanging in the cool morning air between us.
"It feels so strange... and honestly, terrifying.
After everything I survived with Luciano, after everything our father put us through, feeling this way about a man who lied to me makes me feel like I'm losing my mind. "
My sisters settle around me, the teasing vanishing completely.
"Rosalia," Eleonora says softly, reaching across the blanket to lay her hand over mine. "The pain from your past is trying to protect you. It's telling you to build a wall so you never get hurt again. But you can't let past trauma be the only thing that decides your future."
"Dominic messed up," Sienna adds, her voice unusually gentle. "He built a foundation on a secret. But he’s not trying to trap you, Rosalia. He's trying to keep you."
"Think about why it hurts so bad," Camilla whispers quietly.
Her words strike a deep, quiet nerve.
I close my eyes as the realization slowly hits me. I’m not just angry because Dominic kept a secret. I’m not just furious that he used a legal proxy to get to Luciano's files.
I’m hurt because I had actually fallen in love with the life we were building.
I’m hurt because I desperately, fiercely wanted what we had become—the quiet morning coffees, the protective glances, the goofy moments with Yapper, the feeling of absolute safety—to be real.
I wasn't just grieving a loss of trust; I was terrifyingly afraid of losing him.
I change the topic to lighter things, and thankfully, my sisters take the cue without pressing further. By the time they leave, the garden feels quiet again, but the knot in my chest has finally loosened.
I head back up to the suite with Yapper cradled in my arm. I fully expect to walk in and find Dominic waiting—ready to press, to talk, to push for the forgiveness he desperately wanted last night. But the room is entirely empty.
As the hours tick by, he never comes up. He stays away.
His restraint unsettles me in a way I didn't anticipate. I’m so used to men taking up space, demanding immediate answers, and expecting absolute obedience from me.
Luciano never gave me room to breathe; my father never gave me a choice.
But Dominic is giving me an entire ocean of distance, leaving the ball entirely in my court.
Later in the evening, I hear a soft, almost imperceptible knock at the suite door.
When I open it, the hallway is empty, but sitting neatly on the polished floor outside is a wooden tray.
On it rests a fresh, steaming cup of the exact dark roast coffee I like, a bowl of specialized gourmet food for Yapper, and a small glass plate holding a slice of lemon tart—my absolute favorite dessert from the bakery across town.
Beside the plate lies a small, heavy silver key ring. The keys to the vintage 1969 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray parked in the garage.
There’s no note. No plea for a conversation. No attempts to corner, gaslight or control me.
He is simply giving me small, useful, deeply personal things that prove he’s been listening to me all along. He’s taking care of me without trapping me, offering me the freedom to choose whatever I want.
I pick up the tray and set it on the nightstand, my fingers lingering over the cold metal of the car keys.
The gesture goes deeper than any grand speech ever could, forcing me to completely rethink my next move. But as much as my heart softens toward him, a dark, familiar fear creeps back in.
I’m terrified. Terrified of dropping my guard, of letting myself believe in him completely, only to be broken and let down all over again.
After eating the dessert, I head downstairs with Yapper. I drop him off with Helena in the foyer, giving her a quiet smile as she takes him into her arms, before heading straight toward the private garage.
I hold the silver key ring tightly in my palm, the metal cold against my skin.
Standing in front of the sleek vintage Stingray, a small rush of nervous adrenaline hits my chest. I’ve never driven this car alone before—Dominic was always right there beside me, guiding my hands on the wheel, his dark eyes watching me with that quiet, intense focus.
But tonight, the car is mine. The choice is mine.
I pop open the heavy door, slide into the butter-soft leather interior, and slip the key into the ignition.
With a single turn, the engine roars to life, a deep, powerful purr echoing off the concrete walls of the garage.
I pull out of the driveway, hitting the gas as the massive iron gates slide open. The car shoots forward into the crisp evening air, the wind instantly whipping through my hair.
As the estate fades into the rearview mirror and the open road stretches out ahead of me, the suffocating fear in my chest finally snaps, replaced by a sudden, breathtaking rush.
For the first time in my life, I am completely in control. And I am finally, truly free.